The tale of the Ugandan Taxi

On a good day, the taxi conductor will help an elderly lady cross the road. Amazing!

On a bad day, that same guy will connive with 5 thieves to rob an unsuspecting passenger. (I was that passenger, but more on that later)

For my tourist friends who have no idea what is referred to as a taxi in Uganda, allow me to explain.

It is the weird-looking minivan that carries 14 or so passengers. A taxi conductor is the guy who collects fare from passengers.

In Kenya, a taxi is referred to as matatu, in Ivory Coast as gbaka and in Rwanda as twegerane... (yes, I googled the terms to prove I'm intelligent ;-)

The point I am trying to make is that different countries have a different name for it.

Then there is Uganda.

Well, we were too lazy to come up with a creative name. So, we settled for 'taxi'. Never mind that we have cabs which are technically 'taxis'.

So, what do we call the cabs instead?

Well, my dear friend, I am embarrassed to admit that we call them "special hire". There is a story here. It involves a mzungu and a goat... to be told in future.

Back to this article.

Unlike our Kenyan counterparts, Ugandan taxis don't usually blast music that can be heard all the way from Kawangware to Thika.

On a normal day, the passengers will quietly listen to birango (death announcements) or to the latest local hit. Everyone is content.

Of course, it's not just the birango that keep the passengers entertained. Some passengers take it upon themselves to entertain other passengers.

(If you take a personal car into town on a daily basis, you have no idea what you're missing out on.)

This one time, I looked over to my neighbor in a taxi. She was reading texts from her sugar daddy. How did I know they were texts from her S.D? Well, he claimed he wasn't feeling well. The babe
asked him to send a photo (people lie so you have to get that proof).

To cut the story short, I saw the photo. That's how I know. To be honest, that was the most disturbing conversation ever. And yes, I never read another one after that.

Onto the story of how I got robbed in a matatu/gbaka...well, in a taxi. Jeez!